


Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

by Pony Girl (Jackjunkie)



Category: Alias Smith and Jones
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-22
Updated: 2012-10-22
Packaged: 2017-11-16 19:30:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/543046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackjunkie/pseuds/Pony%20Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A favor for Lom and the governor leads to a split between Heyes and Curry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Compadres #2

Heyes thought that breaking with the Kid must be the hardest  
thing he'd ever had to do in his whole life. Harder than the  
first robbery he'd pulled. Harder than the first time he got  
shot at. Harder than the first safe he cracked. Harder than the  
time they tried to outrun that dang posse that just wouldn't  
quit--the one with the Apache in it. Harder even than the time  
they'd crossed the desert with no water, after they lost Seth.

Trouble was, he'd gotten so used to sharing all the hard  
times. Oh, he'd faced his portion alone, back a spell, but it  
had been some time since he'd had to. His partner's fast gun and  
slow smile were always there to lighten the load. He'd come to  
rely so much on his constant companionship that he was uneasy now  
riding alone. Especially heading into what promised to be a  
dangerous situation. Oh, he was sure he could handle it. It  
just took some adjustment in his thinking. His planning  
naturally tended to include the Kid--he'd have to make an effort  
to remember to _ex_ clude him. He was on his own now and he'd  
better start getting used to the idea. After all, it would be  
better for both of them this way. He was convinced of that. Or  
he'd _been_ convinced.

His thoughts drifted back to the previous day as his horse  
plodded steadily along the road. It had begun yesterday--last  
night really. It was all still so new. He just needed a little  
time.

Last night--he'd been so lucky in that poker game...

*****

What a streak of luck! Heyes looked very satisfied as he  
counted his winnings and pocketed them. This ought to keep them  
going for some time without having to worry about anything as  
unpleasant as work. He strolled out of the saloon and paused on  
the plank walkway. He'd enjoy breaking the good news to the Kid.   
His partner's luck hadn't been running as well as his, so he'd  
retired from the game much earlier. Probably to keep company  
with that pretty little thing with the honey-colored ringlets  
who'd been flirting with him from the moment he'd entered the  
saloon. Well, as they said, unlucky at cards...

"Evening, Heyes." A voice broke into his ruminations.

Startled at hearing himself addressed by his rightful name  
instead of his alias, he turned slowly and carefully to his left,  
letting his right hand drop unobtrusively toward the six-gun in  
his holster. A sheriff's badge gleamed in the darkness. Heyes  
froze, and smiled, a blank, innocent smile, a mask to cover his  
frenzied thoughts. Then he saw the speaker's face, and the smile  
became genuine as he relaxed.

"Lom! You oughta be more careful where you go pointing that  
badge, it could be very unhealthy one of these days." He shook  
his friend's hand. "What brings you to these parts? Business?   
You're not lurking in the dark just waiting for me... or are  
you?"

"Matter of fact, Heyes, I am. Looked you up special--got a  
job to offer you, one our mutual friend, the governor, hopes  
you'll consider."

"Well now, that does sound interesting, yessir. Why don't  
we go hunt up the Kid and we can all discuss it over a drink?"

"Er, if you don't mind, Heyes, I'd just as soon talk to you  
alone first, without the Kid. Someplace private. Why don't you  
come on up to my hotel room? I've got a bottle there, so I can  
offer you that drink at least."

"Okay, Lom, whatever you say." Heyes looked a little  
puzzled, but he was willing to go along with Lom's wishes,  
especially if it concerned an offer from the governor.

Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry, bank and train robbers  
extraordinaire and former leaders of the notorious Devil's Hole  
Gang, had been trying their best for some time now to earn an  
amnesty promised them by the Wyoming governor if they could prove  
to him they were sincere about going straight. Sheriff Lom  
Trevors acted as their go-between, reporting on their progress,  
and from time to time soliciting their help with some task for  
the governor. They were always anxious to comply with anything  
that might bring them closer to that elusive amnesty.

So now Heyes unhesitatingly accompanied Lom to his room to  
hear his proposal, only wondering a little about the secrecy and  
about Lom's watchfulness on the way.

Once safe in his room, Lom poured them each a whiskey,  
walked over to the window, and downed his drink in one swallow.   
Heyes sat and sipped and waited for Lom to begin his tale.

Lom poured himself another whiskey and contemplated it.   
Abruptly he said, "What do you know about a character, name of  
Buster Cole?"

Heyes raised his eyebrows. "Nothing good." He thought over  
what he'd heard. "Bad Buster Cole is a two-bit hooligan and a  
born troublemaker. Been kicked out of every gang he ever rode  
with, usually on account of pure meanness. And the fellas in  
these gangs, mind, aren't exactly Sunday school types themselves.   
But he's an ornery cuss. At least, from what I hear tell--I  
never actually met him."

"Oh, what you've heard doesn't even begin to cover it. Been  
a string of stage and train robberies lately that we suspect he's  
behind. Particularly vicious robberies--they kill anyone who  
gets in their way and they don't leave witnesses. They also seem  
to know just where to strike to capture the most valuable  
shipments."

"An inside connection?" was Heyes' shrewd guess.

"That's what we figure. Someone working for the freight  
office and the railroad must be passing them information. I have  
to tell you it's become one of the governor's top priorities to  
put a stop to the thefts and bring the culprits to justice."

"Where do we come in?"

"It so happens there's going to be a large shipment of  
currency to a bank on an eastbound train. They're using a  
special safe for this shipment--the best there is. Only one  
man's ever been known to get one open--and he had to devise a  
special method to blow it with nitroglycerin. That safe..."

"I know...don't tell me...is a Pierce & Hamilton '78."

"Yup." Lom regarded the man before him and continued, "And  
that man, as is common knowledge..."

"...is the famous safecracker, Hannibal Heyes. I'm  
beginning to catch on," Heyes reluctantly admitted. He wasn't  
particularly happy with the turn the conversation was taking.

"Your name does tend to come up now and then in connection  
with that particular safe. These boys have put out the word that  
they'd welcome the services of Hannibal Heyes on this job. After  
all, with $250,000 at stake, they can afford to hire the best."

Heyes whistled at the figure, then acknowledged the  
compliment. "Shucks, Lom, you'll make me blush. All kidding  
aside, though, I take it you want me to accept their offer."

"We do. We suspect Cole's running this gang, but rumors are  
all we've got to go on. We need some solid evidence. We also  
want to catch their railroad connection. We figured on letting  
you go through with the holdup. It won't do us any good to nab  
those varmints before they break the law. The guards on the  
train will have special instructions to cooperate so there won't  
be any trouble. We don't want any dead heroes."

"Considerate of you," Heyes put in.

Lom ignored him. "Once you get away, and they've contacted  
their inside man with his share of the take, we'll move in to  
round everybody up. We want these men brought to trial, not  
gunned down. We'll take care they don't find out about your  
involvement. The governor, needless to say, will be _extremely_  
grateful for your assistance."

Heyes considered. "And if I don't go along?"

"You got the right to turn us down, Heyes. We won't force  
you. There's no telling when we'll get a chance like this again,  
though. This is the only time we've known in advance where  
they're planning to hit, because of how they're trying to get  
ahold of you. There isn't another man in the West who could open  
that safe. Not to mention that no one would ever suspect  
Hannibal Heyes of having any connection with the law." Lom  
finished his drink and studied his empty glass. "We're  
determined to stop them somehow--they just don't care how many  
dead bodies they leave behind. One of their victims was a 4-year-old girl."

Heyes was appalled. In all the robberies he'd ever  
masterminded, the one think he was adamant about was no killing.   
If you were careful, it was unnecessary and stupid. These boys  
weren't outlaws, they were vermin.

"Alright, Lom, you got yourself a safecracker. I guess a  
gang like that can always use an extra gun, too, so there  
shouldn't be any problem about getting them to take on the Kid as  
well."

"Uh, Heyes, about the Kid." Lom looked kind of  
uncomfortable. "See, there was a reason I wanted to have this  
talk with you alone." He didn't seem to know just how to  
continue.

"I'm listening," Heyes prompted.

"We were thinking," Lom explained, "that it might be better  
for you to do this job yourself and leave the Kid out of it this  
time."

"We're a team, Lom, you know that. I don't work without the  
Kid." He was surprised at the suggestion. What possible reason  
could there be?

"There's a reason for askin', Heyes. There's another name  
that came up in the reports we got on that gang: Gabe Tarley."   
He shot Heyes a look from under his brows but didn't say anything  
more. He didn't need to.

"Gabe Tarley? The Angel o' Death?" Heyes was beginning to  
see Lom's point.

"Yes, he does call himself some such nonsense. Fact is,  
though, he has killed more men than any gunslinger hereabouts  
that I know of. All 'fair fights'--nothing we can hold him on.   
He's aiming to make himself a reputation and he's aiming right  
through every fast gun who could challenge it. The same word  
that says they want your help also says Tarley wants to take on  
Kid Curry. Heyes," Lom emphasized his words deliberately, "I'm  
not so sure he couldn't do it. Even if he can't, I don't want  
the Kid killing him either. That's not what the governor had in  
mind for you two, especially while in his employ."

"Lom, the Kid can usually win a gunfight without resorting  
to killing."

"I know that, but Tarley's not a usual case. I know how  
fast the Kid is, but he may have no choice, especially against  
someone who's determined to kill him. So determined that he'll  
undoubtedly come looking for him eventually if he doesn't go on  
this job with you. But we can avoid that if this all goes well  
and we can arrest him."

"We can avoid it even if the Kid does come along. If they  
want me to help them with that safe, they're not going to  
antagonize me by killing my partner."

"Heyes, you can't count on that. These aren't reasonable  
men. Any little thing could set 'em off."

Heyes thought it over. "Lom, the Kid'll never agree to stay  
behind."

"So don't tell him where you're going. The two of you split  
up to take separate odd jobs from time to time--tell him you're  
doing that."

"What kind of a job?"

"I don't know, tell him anything, make up a story, use that  
silver tongue of yours."

"I don't like it, Lom. It just don't seem right, deceivin'  
the Kid that way."

"It's for his own good, Heyes. If you don't take the job  
and we don't get them locked up or hung, the Kid'll have to be  
looking over his shoulder for Tarley to come gunning for him. If  
you take him with you, Tarley's bound to maneuver him into a  
fight at some point--and it'll be on Tarley's terms. The best  
plan to keep the Kid from either killin' or gettin' killed is to  
do this our way and not take him with you. It makes sense, you  
gotta see that."

It went against every grain in his being, but Heyes  
recognized that it did kind of make sense. Much good would any  
of this do if the Kid got gunned down--and he'd just as soon not  
see him gun anyone else down either, if he could help it. He  
sighed and gave in.

"Okay, Lom. I'll help you out, and I'll do it solo. Just  
remember--if anything goes wrong, Tarley may not be the only one  
the Kid goes gunning for. And I for one would not want to face  
the business end of Kid Curry's six-gun."

*****

So it was that the next morning when the Kid woke up, he saw  
Heyes packing. He'd come in pretty late the night before and  
Heyes was already asleep, so they hadn't had a chance to talk  
then.

"Morning," he said between a stretch and a yawn. "What's  
up?"

"Morning, Kid," Heyes answered cheerfully as he continued  
stowing his gear. "I got me a job."

"Yeah? What is it?"

"Oh, a real cushy deal, Kid. It's sort of a delivery job,  
you might say. I met this rancher last night, see, in the poker  
game. Seems his wife and her aunt are planning a trip to visit  
some relatives down Pridesburg way. They're driving themselves,  
as it's off the regular stage routes. The rancher was going to  
accompany them o' course, but it turns out he has to stay behind  
to take care of some ranch business that came up. His wife's  
still set on going, but naturally he doesn't want two ladies  
driving cross country alone like that. So he hired me to ride  
along with them, watch out for them, make sure they get there  
safely and all. It should be an easy trip. I figure it'll take  
about a week."

The Kid threw off his covers and swung his legs over the  
side of the bed. "That does sound like a nice, easy job, Heyes.   
When do we leave?"

"We? No, Kid, see, the rancher could only afford to hire  
one of us. I tried to talk him into taking us both on, of  
course, but he couldn't see his way clear to paying for two  
escorts when he thought one was plenty."

"Well, alright, he doesn't have to pay double. I'll just  
ride along for the company then." He went over to the basin,  
poured some water from the pitcher, and splashed it on his face.

"Now, Kid, I thought sure you'd want to wait here, get  
better acquainted with that little saloon gal that was makin'  
eyes at you last night."

The Kid emerged from the towel grinning. "We did have a  
fine time last night. I don't fancy hangin' around here all  
week, though. I'd just as soon come along."

"Well, I'd just as soon you didn't," Heyes said in  
exasperation. The Kid sure could be stubborn once he'd gotten an  
idea into his head, like a dog with a bone.

The Kid looked a little miffed. "Well, there's no call to  
get rude, Heyes."

"Now, Kid," Heyes began to pacify him, then paused. If he  
could make the Kid's temper work for him, maybe he could get out  
of here without the Kid thinking things over too closely. He  
changed his tack. "Maybe there is call. Maybe I want some time  
to myself for a change. Didja ever think of that?"

"No, I didn't think of that! If that's what you want, why  
didn't ya say so?"

"I just did!"

"Fine! You want some time alone, take some time alone."   
The Kid threw the towel on the floor. "Take a week. Take two!"

"Thank you. Maybe I will!"

"In fact, maybe you should just take all the time you want.   
Maybe you don't even need a partner at all anymore!"

"Maybe I don't!"

By this time they were glaring at each other. Something in  
the Kid told him maybe they were going too far, but he didn't  
quite know how to back down. He wasn't even sure what he'd be  
backing down _from_.

"Heyes..." he began.

Heyes wasn't going to give the Kid an out. He _hated_ this,  
but he wasn't going to soften up. He'd pushed it this far, he'd  
push it over the edge if he had to. The Kid would understand  
later, when it was all over.

"What do I need a partner for anyway? I do all the  
thinking! I plan better, I play poker better, hell, I even make  
better coffee! I ain't half bad with a gun neither, and I don't  
need a gun anyway when I can talk my way out of trouble. I'm  
tired of looking out for two people! It's time I looked out for  
myself for a while."

This time the Kid didn't yell back. A stillness had settled  
over him, a stillness that could come upon him in times of  
turmoil. Adversaries didn't have half as much to worry about  
when Kid Curry was hot with anger. It was when Kid Curry was at  
his iciest calm that they really had to watch out.

Heyes had never seen that mood directed at him before. He  
had to keep reminding himself _why_ he was doing this. Maybe he'd  
gone far enough, though. Time to wrap things up.

"Look, Kid, I didn't mean nothin' by that. We're just  
gettin' on each other's nerves is all. Might do us good to spend  
some time apart for a spell--it don't mean it's permanent. We'll  
see how it goes. No hard feelings?" He held out his hand.

The Kid looked at him, his expression unreadable, his eyes  
like blue flint. The moment stretched into an unbearable  
infinity. Finally he reached for his partner's proffered hand.

"Sure. No hard feelings."

They shook. Heyes almost backed down then. He turned away  
quickly before he could change his mind.

"Well, I'll be going then."

"Goodbye, Heyes."

"See ya round, Kid."

Heyes collected his gear and walked straight out of the  
room. He didn't look back.

The Kid moved to the window and watched his (ex?)partner  
walk out of the hotel and over to the livery stable.

"What are you up to, Heyes?" he muttered.

*****

So Heyes rode along his lonely road contemplating the past.   
He soon decided there was no point dwelling on it. Better to  
concentrate on what lay ahead, and worry about patching things up  
with the Kid later.

If Lom's information was correct, the gang was holed up in  
an old deserted mining camp. Having operated on both sides of  
the law in his time, Lom had access to sources of information not  
available to the average lawman. It was an advantage that had  
proven its usefulness on more than one occasion.

Heyes' task seemed pretty simple. After all, _they_ wanted  
 _him_ , so it wasn't like he was going to have to talk his way into  
anything. His job was pretty straightforward: blow the safe and  
get word to Lom about the contact. He didn't really even have  
anything to plan. Somehow that made him nervous. He rode along  
trying to convince himself that there was nothing to be nervous  
about. If the Kid had been there he could have talked to him  
about it and somehow ended up feeling better. But the Kid wasn't  
there and there was no point wishing he was.

So he was still a little on edge when he rode into what was  
supposed to be the gang's headquarters. All he saw was a  
collection of old miners' shacks scattered around and no sign of  
life. He stopped and just sat there on horseback for a minute  
looking around. Finally he cupped his hands to his mouth.

"Hallooo!" he called. "Anybody to home?"

His response was the sound of a rifle being cocked behind  
him. "Who wants to know?"

Heyes just grinned and held his hands up, nice and easy.   
"Hannibal Heyes," he replied easily. "I understand you may have  
a job for me."

*****

Kid Curry was riding down the same road Heyes had ridden  
earlier. He couldn't follow too close 'cause Heyes was too good  
at pickin' up on something like that. Curry had no doubt of his  
ability to track him, though, so he let him get a good head  
start.

Curry couldn't figure out what his friend was up to, but he  
wouldn't have done all that hootin' and hollerin' 'less he was up  
to something. Hannibal Heyes was an expert at blowing smoke--the  
thing was, the Kid had watched him do it too many times not to  
recognize it even when it was aimed at himself. No, Heyes was  
involved in something he'd decided to handle alone. The fact  
that he hadn't let Curry in on it meant one thing to him:   
trouble. And he wasn't about to let Heyes go off to face trouble  
alone without being there to back him up.

He came to a fork in the road where the tracks got kind of  
confused. He got down to examine them more closely. He couldn't  
be certain, but after some pondering he decided that the more  
likely trail led off to the left. He remounted and headed down  
the left-hand fork, blithely unaware that Heyes had taken the  
right.

*****

Heyes was meeting his new colleagues. Bad Buster Cole lived  
down to all the reports on him. His boys were as mangy a bunch  
of flea-bitten curs as Heyes had had the pleasure of seeing in  
all his days of outlawing. It looked as though Cole had  
scavenged the leavings that no one else would have anything to do  
with.

He was trying his best to appear impressed when a new voice  
behind him said, "Well, well, well. So this is the great  
Hannibal Heyes."

He turned slowly and beheld the individual who had most  
aroused his curiosity. He was tall, heavyset, dark, unshaven,  
and unbathed. His clothes looked like they'd been slept in for  
at least a month. He smelled of tobacco juice.

Heyes knew perfectly well who he had to be, but he looked  
him up and down and said, "And you are?"

The engaging flower of humanity grinned through his broken  
teeth and identified himself: "Gabe Tarley. Short for Gabriel.   
The Angel o' Death, they call me."

"And who am I to dispute them?"

Heyes smiled blandly while Tarley tried to decide whether to  
take offense or not. Finally he uttered a short bark of  
laughter.

"You're a cool customer, Heyes. I like that." His eyes  
narrowed as he looked about the room. "But where's that  
gunslinging partner of yours? I have a, uh, professional  
interest, you might say, in meeting him."

He had a nervous, eager air about him and a predatory gleam  
in his eye. He was altogether a thoroughly nasty character and  
Heyes had no intention of letting him get anywhere in range of  
the Kid with a loaded gun if he had anything at all to say about  
it.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Tarley, but the Kid didn't come  
with me. We don't always ride together these days. We're sort  
of in semi-retirement from the business, but I just couldn't  
resist your offer here when I heard about it. The Kid's not in  
the area, though. In fact, I don't even think he's in the  
country. Seems to me he was in Mexico, last I heard. Chasing a  
senorita."

Tarley did seem downcast at the news. "Pity. Still," he  
brightened a bit, "there's always next time, eh?"

"Next time. Oh, sure thing." With any luck, Tarley'd be  
locked away in a prison cell long before any "next time" rolled  
around.

*****

Meanwhile the object of this discussion was backtracking,  
trying to figure out where he'd lost Heyes' trail. It must have  
been at that fork. He was sure he'd stayed with him up to there.   
He'd just have to go back and try the right fork and see if he  
picked him up again. If he'd lost him completely... he didn't  
want to think about Heyes being in trouble and him gettin' there  
too late to help.

What fool idea could his partner have taken into that hard  
head of his to go off on his own like this anyway? Heyes sure  
could be stubborn sometimes. And there was no telling if there  
was really anything to worry about at all. He tried to convince  
himself there wasn't. If Heyes had been there he could have  
talked to him about it and somehow ended up feeling better. Of  
course, if Heyes had been there, there wouldn't have been  
anything to talk _about_. Anyhow, Heyes wasn't there and he needed  
to concentrate on finding him, not just wishing him there.

With his thoughts in this jumble, he arrived at the fork and  
turned up the right path.

*****

Things were going quite smoothly for Heyes. Cole had  
realized he'd need nitro to blow the safe and had already  
obtained some. There were a few other items he required, a pump,  
putty, blasting caps and so on, but it was a simple matter to  
ride into a nearby town to purchase them. He'd also been filled  
in on the plan, including the details of the getaway and contact  
with the inside man. Bad Buster just couldn't resist bragging to  
that premier strategist, Hannibal Heyes, all about his own plan.   
Heyes was also, as Lom said, above suspicion since he had as much  
reason for avoiding the law as any man there. Thus it was easy  
enough to add a telegraph to Lom to his little shopping  
expedition.

So why was he feeling so _un_ easy as he rode back into camp,  
if everything was going so well? Probably just a natural  
distrust of too much luck. He caught sight of Gabe Tarley. Or  
an equally natural distrust of that coyote. The man plain gave  
him the creeps. He had a feeling he was a little "tetched" in  
the head. Cole kept him on a tight rein, but who was to say how  
long that control would last with enough provocation? He kept  
making unsettling remarks about Curry, too, that left Heyes in no  
doubt as to his intentions. He would not be sorry to put this  
whole experience behind him.

He settled his horse and went into the ramshackle cabin he'd  
been assigned to put away his supplies. A short time later he  
heard a commotion outside. From his doorway he saw two of the  
men hustling a prisoner along. They each had hold of one of his  
arms. They stopped in front of Cole, where the others were  
gathering. Heyes stepped outside to join them.

"Whatcha got there, boys?" Cole was asking.

"We found him sneakin' around, spyin' on the camp," one  
answered.

"Now why would anyone wanna spy on us? Less'n he was a  
lawman." Cole paused, expecting a protest. None came so he  
continued. "That it? You a lawman?"

"He's no lawman," Heyes spoke up before the prisoner could  
answer. "What are you doing here?"

"Following you. What else?"

"You know this man?" Cole demanded.

"Oh, I know him alright," Heyes answered gloomily. "Bad  
Buster Cole, meet my partner, Kid Curry."

"Hallelujah! The answer to an angel's prayers. We might  
have us some fun on this job after all." Gabe Tarley smiled an  
evil smile and spit a stream of tobacco juice at Heyes' feet.   
"Mexico, huh?"

Heyes just shrugged. For once there seemed to be nothing to  
say.

*****

He found plenty to say to the Kid, though, once they were  
alone in his shanty. At least Cole had accepted Curry into the  
gang with no problem.

"Nice place you got here, Heyes," Curry remarked, looking  
around critically.

"Never mind the decor, Kid. What do you mean by following me  
here?"

The Kid folded his arms and regarded him. "I knew you was  
in trouble, Heyes, and I see now my instincts were right. That  
bunch out there don't look like no ladies to me."

"Ladies...oh. I apologize for the lie, Kid. Actually, it  
was Lom's idea."

"Lom? Is he mixed up in all this?"

Heyes sighed. "Sit down, Kid. It's a long story."

He told him all of it and when he was through the Kid looked  
distinctly annoyed. "So you were just going through with all  
this without me, without even giving me a chance to turn it  
down?"

Heyes looked unhappy. "When Lom explained it, it made  
sense."

"Heyes, I ain't your little cousin no more who needs lookin'  
after. I'm a big boy now. I got the right to make my own  
mistakes."

"Even a fatal one? A shootout with Gabe Tarley could be the  
last mistake you ever make, Kid."

"In the first place, Heyes, who says we're gonna shoot it  
out? And in the second, when did you start doubtin' I could  
outdraw anyone?"

"I never said I doubted you. Alright, let's lay our cards  
on the table here. Oh, you'd start off meaning not to let him  
goad you into anything, but I know you, Kid. You can only be  
pushed so far. It'd be bound to come to a gunfight. I've seen  
Tarley's target practice. He's fast. I ain't saying he's faster  
'n you. Maybe not. But, Kid, ole Angel Gabriel Tarley's got one  
thing you _ain't_ got."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Killer instinct. He wants to kill you, Kid. He wants it  
bad."

"I've faced down killers before, Heyes. You know that.   
So've you, for that matter. Why is this any different?"

"I dunno, it just is. _He's_ different. I think he's a  
little crazy. It'd seal his reputation to be The Man That Killed  
Kid Curry. He's _determined_ to see you dead."

"Well, I'm pretty determined myself to stay alive, so I  
guess one of us is in for a big disappointment."

"What you seem determined on is making light of this. Can't  
you take it serious? I got a bad feeling about this, Kid."

"Heyes," Curry said quietly and then just waited till his  
cousin, who'd been pacing the length of the small room, stopped  
and faced him. "You're takin' it serious enough for both of us.   
I do the worryin', remember? You're takin' everything on  
yourself and forgettin' that this here is a partnership. Trust  
me to handle Tarley; you just handle that safe."

Heyes considered the Kid's words. He'd let Lom talk him  
into a course of action against his better judgment. Deep down  
he knew it really. He'd felt a guilty relief when the Kid showed  
up just now, despite the danger. He hadn't been comfortable  
sneaking behind the back of the man who'd always stood by his  
side. The partnership had worked for them this far; he should  
trust it to keep on working.

"You're right, Kid. I'm sorry. Partners?" He held out his  
hand.

The Kid smiled as he took it. "Partners."

*****

"Just like old times, ain't it, Heyes?"

A pile of logs and debris had been laid across the track to  
force the train to stop and now the gang members waited, more or  
less patiently according to their natures, grouped in two's and  
three's to take advantage of the terrain's sparse cover. Heyes  
glanced around at the cutthroats he considered a poor substitute  
for their friends from Devil's Hole, at Buster Cole whose style  
of leadership differed markedly from Heyes' own, and at Tarley, a  
warped and twisted mismatch to his own straight and true partner.

"Sure, Kid. Old times."

"I never thought we'd be doing this again, did you? And to  
think that it's all legal. No posse to worry about afterwards.   
We can just relax and enjoy it."

Relax? Heyes wasn't finding this whole adventure  
particularly relaxing. It had taken all his legendary  
persuasiveness to get Cole to agree to no killing on this job.   
Heyes wouldn't back down on this point and, since without him  
there basically was no job, in the end he had extracted a  
reluctant promise of no killing unless it was necessary. He had  
to be satisfied with that and hope that the guards would follow  
Lom's instructions about cooperating.

He'd also been kept on pins and needles over Tarley's  
taunting of the Kid. The Kid had been a model of patience,  
though, putting up with every jab, and surprisingly Tarley hadn't  
pushed anything too hard. This had puzzled Heyes until he'd  
overheard a remark that "Curry's friend's protection wouldn't  
last forever." So the Kid was safe until after the job.   
Meanwhile Tarley was relishing the anticipation. Lom had better  
not waste any time wrapping things up when this was over, that's  
all.

"You got a strange notion o' relaxation, Kid," he observed  
wryly.

Curry was skeptical. "Oh, come on, Heyes. You can't tell  
me you're not enjoying this just the least little bit. Getting  
your hands on that safe doesn't hold even the smallest appeal?   
You ain't feeling _none_ of the old excitement at all?"

Heyes opened his mouth to respond in the negative, and then  
paused. If he had to be completely honest with himself, maybe  
there was just a touch of the old feeling left.

"Well, maybe you're right, Kid," he said, grinning, "but not  
enough to be sorry we gave it up. Not near enough for that."

A whistle's scream cut across their words. The obstruction  
had been spotted. The train was drawing to a halt. Cole gave  
the signal and the men charged.

Heyes and Curry exchanged one last look. "This is it,"  
Heyes said as they pulled their bandannas up to cover their  
faces. With a shout they joined the charge.

The train surrendered without a shot. The masked riders  
quickly found the P & H '78 and Heyes set to work. Curry  
assisted, also managing to keep an eye out for any unwarranted  
gunplay, but everyone was behaving.

The gang collected all the guns they could find and tossed  
them out, then tied up the guards to delay any pursuit. Once  
bound, they were herded into a corner together. As one of them  
was shoved into place, he tripped and stumbled against Tarley.   
With a snarl, his gun was out and aimed at the fallen man.

"No!" With a shout, the Kid's gun was instantly aimed at  
Tarley. "Hold it!" Without thinking, Heyes was up and between  
them. His eyes sought Cole's. "We agreed, no killing!"

Cole returned his look intently, then reached carefully for  
Tarley's arm to pull it down. "He's right. Not this time. I  
gave my word."

Tarley looked from Cole to Heyes, and back.

Cole insisted, "This time, we do it his way."

Tarley slowly returned his gun to his holster. Satisfying  
himself with a kick at the offending guard, he turned away  
without a word.

The Kid lowered his gun, but remained alert. Heyes got back  
to work. He sealed up the safe, pumped out the air, poured in  
the nitro and--boom!--they were soon collecting $250,000 in cash.   
Back in the saddle, they soon left the train far behind.

*****

"I gotta hand it to you, Cole, that was as smooth an  
operation as I've seen, barring that bit of trouble, and you  
handled that." Heyes believed in giving credit where it was due.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Heyes." Cole was  
feeling expansive. This was the biggest haul they'd ever taken  
and things couldn't have gone better.

In fact, they were all in a mood for celebrating, so when  
they approached the abandoned stage depot that was their  
destination, Cole sang out, "Break out the whiskey, boys, while  
we divvy up the loot." A ragged cheer went up at this  
pronouncement and they began to stumble over each other in their  
haste to get inside and at the promised liquor.

It had been decided that the safest course of action was not  
to return to the mining camp but to split up and go their  
separate ways for a while as soon as they'd divided the money.   
The spot they'd selected to do this was formerly a bustling  
station on a busy stage route, but it had fallen into disuse  
since the railroad had come through and appropriated all its  
business. The station was still standing, however, and would  
afford them an isolated shelter to conduct their affairs away  
from prying eyes.

Heyes looked around but didn't see a sign of Lom or his men.   
Well, he wouldn't expect him to give away his presence  
prematurely.

There was one man waiting inside for them--their railroad  
contact. Cole introduced the newcomer, Furbush, to Curry and  
Heyes. He gave them a perfunctory nod, but made it clear he  
wanted to collect his money and get going.

"Relax, what's your hurry?" Cole admonished him. "Have a  
drink with the boys first."

"No, really, I don't think..."

"Are you refusing to drink with us?" Tarley asked  
menacingly.

"Why, no, I, that is...of course I'll drink with you."   
Flustered, the little clerk scuttled over to accept a whiskey,  
which he gulped nervously.

Tarley laughed meanly. As he turned back around, his eyes  
fell on the Kid.

"What about you, Curry?" he challenged. "Will you drink  
with me?"

"Oh, I never turn down a drink," Curry rejoined easily. He  
ambled over to collect a whiskey. As he raised the glass, Tarley  
reached out and knocked it out of his hand. The amber liquid  
trickled across the floor.

"Maybe _I_ don't wanna drink with the likes of _you_ ," Tarley  
snarled through the sudden silence.

Heyes snapped around from where he'd been counting the money  
with Cole. His eyes raked across the scene. Not now! He'd  
already begun to let himself hope it was all over and they'd made  
it. This couldn't happen now!

The Kid looked up from the spilled drink and met Tarley's  
spiteful gaze. "Suit yourself," was all he said.

Heyes breathed a little easier.

Tarley, however, was not mollified. "Seems I was mistaken  
in you, Curry. See, I thought you was a gunman. Leastwise a  
 _man_. You're nuthin' but a lily-livered, yellow-bellied coward!   
You been hidin' behind your partner all along, long as we needed  
him to open that safe, and you're _still_ hidin'. Hidin' behind  
talk. Well, the talkin's over. Time we had it out, you an' me.   
Past time."

The insults just rolled off Curry. He was secure in who he  
was, so they were meaningless. Especially in this group, whose  
respect he didn't give a hoot for.

"I don't want to have it out with you, Tarley. I got no  
reason to."

"You need a reason? Callin' you a coward ain't enough of a  
reason? You that scared, that you won't even fight me over  
that?"

"That what you think? You think I'm scared, Tarley?"

Tarley looked into those eyes, like chips of blue ice, and  
for a moment _he_ was scared. Just for a moment. He shook it off  
and looked around the room.

Every man was frozen in place, every eye on the two gunmen.   
Every face showed attention, but one stood out like a shivering,  
frightened rabbit's. Tarley grabbed the little railroad clerk  
and shook him in a rage.

"What are you looking at?" he yelled. "I'll teach you to  
look at me." He lifted him overhead and made as if to fling him  
across the room.

"Tarley!" The Kid's voice lashed out like a whip.

Tarley paused.

"Put him down, Tarley."

Tarley turned to face the Kid.

"It's me you want. Put him down." Each word was clear and  
deliberate.

Tarley dropped the clerk to the floor. The poor man  
scrambled out of reach.

The Kid jerked his head towards the door. "Outside."

Tarley strode out the door without another word.

As the Kid turned to follow, Heyes caught him by the arm.   
"Kid..."

The Kid looked at him remotely, his mind already gearing  
toward the fight. He gave a minute shake of his head. "It's no  
use, Heyes." His voice seemed to come from a distance.

Heyes let him go, and the Kid walked out the door. There  
was nothing Heyes could do now. The best way to help at this  
point was to not be a distraction.

The men jostled each other, piling through the door to watch  
the fight. "Come on, you'll miss the action," Cole urged as he  
passed. Heyes followed them outside. Still no sign of Lom.   
What was keeping him?

The Kid and Tarley were faced off in front of the depot.   
The Kid was taking off his gloves.

"Sure we can't settle this some other way?" he asked.

"Cain't be no other way for you 'n me," came the answer.

The Kid nodded. He'd expected no less, but he had to make  
the offer.

Each of these encounters was unique, and yet each was the  
same. They were the foundation his reputation was built on, the  
reputation that had saved their lives more than once. He  
accepted this as the price he had to pay for that reputation.

His focus centered on himself and Tarley. Things acquired  
almost a preternatural clearness. He saw the wildness in  
Tarley's eyes. Heyes was right: he was probably a little crazy.   
That could work for or against him. It brought an unpredictable  
element into play.

Every man there watched and waited, with an eager blood  
lust, for the outcome.

Heyes watched and hoped and wondered, where the _devil_ was  
Lom?

The Kid waited patiently, right hand steady at his side.   
His breathing was measured, his heartbeat regular. His pulse did  
not race; on the contrary, time seemed to slow down till each  
second contained an infinity of awareness. He felt himself at  
that level of serenity that signalled to him that he was ready.   
He looked into those wild eyes, eyes that looked back at him  
hungrily, that wanted what he had, and what he was, and would  
never be. And there was a raging at what couldn't be, but the  
rage was no match for the calm, and though Tarley drew fast, the  
Kid drew faster and deflected the aim that would have sent a  
bullet straight through his heart so that it simply grazed his  
shoulder instead, and it was Tarley who lay bleeding in the dust,  
and Kid Curry's reputation was intact.

And so it was that when Sheriff Lom Trevors and his men  
galloped up, they were easily able to capture a very distracted  
gang of train robbers.

*****

"So with the testimony of Mr. Furbush, the railroad clerk,  
we'll be able to connect the gang to the other robberies and the  
killings, besides having caught them red-handed with the money  
from this one. The experience seems to have shaken him up enough  
so he was very anxious to tell us everything he knew in return  
for some leniency in his case."

Heyes and Curry exchanged a speaking glance. Lom didn't  
know just how literally Mr. Furbush had been shaken.

Lom continued his assessment. "We've also identified the  
freight office clerk who worked with them on the stagecoach  
robberies, so we expect to be able to add those charges as well.   
Any of those boys that don't hang won't see the outside of a  
prison in their lifetimes."

"That's good news, since I have no desire to meet up with  
any of that bunch ever again," Heyes said in relief.

"No need to fret--they believe that you two escaped custody  
while on your way to face your prior charges. They'll never know  
anything about your part in all of this. The governor isn't  
anxious to advertise it--yet."

"Yes, Lom, and speaking of _our_ part in all this," began the  
Kid.

"I know, Kid, I owe you an apology. Somehow I wasn't all  
that surprised to see you'd shown up there after all. I  
shouldn't have talked Heyes into going without you, and I should  
have known you could handle Tarley. He'll be healed up quite  
nicely in time for his trial, by the way. How're you coming  
along?"

"Me? That was just a scratch."

"Good, good. Now I want you boys to know how grateful the  
governor is for what you've done here. He's sent his personal  
assurances that he'll do everything in his power to get you your  
amnesty just as soon as possible, though of course he can't set a  
date just yet."

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Heyes conceded.

"You boys have no idea how impressed he was with you. In  
fact, he has another problem he could use a little help on..."

"Uh, Kid, would you look at the time! Sorry, Lom, we'd love  
to stay and hear all about it but we've gotta be on our way. See  
you around."

"Yeah, maybe next month," qualified the Kid.

"Or the month after."

"Or better yet, next year."

The door closed on their retreating backs. It reopened a  
moment later and the Kid popped his head back in.

"You realize, Lom," he said, "that's unless the governor  
comes through with the amnesty. In that case..."

A hand grasped his shoulder and yanked him back out the  
door.

Lom looked after them and shook his head. What a pair, he  
thought. The governor would be well advised to watch his back.   
Lom, however, felt disinclined to warn him. Let the governor  
look out for himself.

THE END


End file.
